A Dance with the Devil
by AKxx
Summary: These are the events that take place before Octavia Granger becomes Harley Quinn, and Hermione Granger becomes Catwoman.
1. Chapter 1

A Dance with the Devil Chapter 1

* * *

 _A short-story crossover between Suicide Squad and Harry Potter. These are the events that take place before Octavia Granger becomes Harley Quinn and Hermione Granger becomes Catwoman._

 _Warnings: Very Alternate Universe, No Magic, Violence, Non-Canon, Serious Character Identity Swaps, Horror, Stockholm Syndrome._

* * *

A chilly breeze ran over her as she stood on the balcony, high up in the sky-scraper of Gotham City. The celebrations carried on inside of the ballroom, but Octavia paid it no mind. Instead, she found herself staring out onto the grimy and gloomy city, not even the bright stars able to penetrate the thick smog of pollution and corruption.

Octavia had only attended the Awards Ceremony due to Hermione's insistence. Her sister was, needless to say, the bossy type, and had persisted in pushing Octavia and Harry together romantically speaking. Octavia adored Harry, but his double-life was unappealing to her. Harry Potter was Gotham's very own Batman, saving the day and warding off crime to the best of his abilities. Call her selfish, but Octavia preferred to remain safe in her romantic liaisons, not willingly putting herself in danger.

If the criminals of Gotham discovered her romantic affiliation with Harry Potter (therefore, Batman), she would undoubtedly become a target. It was already dangerous enough being the sister of Hermione Granger; Azkaban's resident psychiatrist, and long-time girlfriend of Batman's sidekick, Ronald Weasley.

Octavia had grown up on the suburban outskirts of Gotham City, safe in her residential bubble, surrounded by white-picket fences and Labradors. It was only because her sister had relocated to Gotham City for work, that Octavia had followed.

The wailing of police sirens boomed through the foggy city, but Octavia paid it no mind. It was a constant song of the city, never ending, for the crime never ended. Particularly when there was a mass prisoner escape at Azkaban only two weeks ago, Gotham's most dangerous criminals now on the loose. Batman – or Harry – had already located and reimprisoned a few of the criminals, with the help of Ronald Weasley, otherwise known as Robin. But the Joker and Riddler were still on the loose, concealed by the vermin of the city.

"Hey, O!" Hermione shouted, standing at the open glass door of the balcony. "The speeches are about to start."

Octavia grimaced before tossing the rest of her wine down her throat and following her sister into the ballroom- the room filled with superheros and political figures. Some corrupt, some weak-minded. It didn't matter. They were all as boring as each other, in Octavia's opinion.

The Granger sisters entered into the grand room, decorated by chandeliers above and swarmed by Gotham's elite. It was a nightmare. Octavia sighed as she shut the door behind her, walking over to the wall to take her place for the speeches to begin.

Away from the most boring people she had ever encountered.

"I'll get us some drinks," Hermione smiled, patting her sister condescendingly on her arm before dispersing into the crowd.

Albus Dumbledore, the city's mayor, stepped onto the podium ahead and glanced around the room with a small smile before he cleared his throat. Gotham's finest and wealthiest all turned their attention to the wise man on the podium, watching patiently as he waited for the chatter to simmer.

"Greeti-" Mayor Dumbledore was barely able to start the opening to his speech, let alone finish it.

For the grand entrance to the ballroom blasted open, the shattered ruins of the doors tearing through the air and injuring several attendees. No one heard the screams of the already-injured, however. All that was heard was one cruel and evil laugh. A cackle.

Gotham's evillest and craziest prisoner; the Joker. Aka: Draco Malfoy.

All hell broke loose.

People screamed and cried, some trying to escape and others trying to fight. Impossible amounts of henchmen poured into the room through the smoke of the bombed entrance, immediately setting to hunting the fleeing rich and stealing their jewels.

It was chaos. Anarchy. Terrifying.

Women were screaming and running as the masked villains flooded the room, chasing them gleefully and robbing them of their pearls. Necklaces, rings, watches, everything- _everything_ was taken by the despicable criminals.

Octavia pressed her back against the wall, as though it would allow her to become invisible. In a sense, it had. The villains that swarmed the room had failed to notice her, allowing her enough time to remove her diamond ring – her mother's ring – and stuff it into her bra.

Octavia wouldn't hand over her mother's ring if she could help it.

Henchmen darted by her, but seemingly never noticed her. Perhaps because she was pretending to be a statue? Hoping that it would get her out of the chaos alive.

The villains were of the most frightening and unnerving variety; mostly henchmen with their faces painted either with question marks or as clowns. Either way, they were terrifying. But there were two villains amongst the henchmen, both excruciatingly terrifying and mad. The Joker and The Riddler.

The Joker.

Octavia had never seen anyone like him in her life. Hermione had told her stories of the wicked lunatic, having been his primary psychiatrist at Azkaban. But no amount of tales and assessments could have prepared Octavia.

He wore an unbuttoned purple silk shirt, revealing the amateur and rough tattoos on his lean chest. His hair fell over his forehead, the colour of emerald green, and his eyes mercurial silver. There was a red tinge to his eyelids, only emphasising his insanity. His pale skin would be flawless, if it weren't for the scribblings in permanent ink that decorated his body. Had the man not have been completely insane, one could have considered him attractive.

Of course, Octavia didn't. He was a psychotic freak, twirling a long purple cane as he spun around in circles, laughing like a madman.

Her alarmed hazel eyes darted around the shambles of the grand room, desperately trying to locate her sister. But she dared not move from the wall, lest a henchman or villain notice her. It would not do to be noticed by these depraved monsters. They fed on fear, and Octavia suspected that she was the most frightened person in the room.

Her body trembled, her chest rising and falling, as she breathed harshly, her lips parted and eyes wide with terror. Even if she wanted to move from the safety of the wall, she doubted that she could. The fear had her frozen in place.

For her eyes had locked onto another's. Onto sinister silver eyes, alight with mischief, from across the room. Octavia felt a lump form in her throat as the Joker observed her, a wide grin slowly spreading across his painted face.

The grin remained on his face as he released the neck of a woman he had been 'playing' with, and jumped off the podium, headed right toward a terrified Octavia.

She should have run. She should have screamed and sprinted away from the nearing maniac. But the fear had her frozen in place, only allowing her to shrink further back into the wall, wishing that it would swallow her whole. It didn't.

As he neared, his body seemed to grow wider and longer. Taller and musclier. Perhaps her fear was merely playing tricks on her? Regardless, he continued to approach, his grin in place and eyes alight with malicious intent.

Octavia inhaled sharply as he closed the distance between them with a twirl and curtsy. Slowly, he raised his upper body, straightening himself, that fucking grin still plastered on his painted face.

The Joker threw his head back at laughed manically, Octavia's eyes widening impossibly as she watched the lunatic in front of her. Suddenly, he stopped laughing, meeting her terrified gaze once more as his grin remained. If it weren't for the painted face, he would perhaps resemble a Cheshire cat that caught the canary. Perhaps that is exactly what he was.

But that would make her the canary.

"Pretty, pretty," the Joker cooed, tapping his purple cane against her forehead.

A squeal escaped her lips as he abruptly slammed his hands on the wall at either side of her head, his body swiftly pressed against hers. His nose ran from her chin, all the way up to her hair as he inhaled deeply, his chest rising from the intake of air and her scent.

The Joker breathed a deep ' _Ahh-ing_ ' sound as he exhaled, his eyes meeting hers again and striking terror into her soul.

A mad grin twisted at his lips, his shiny white teeth glinting savagely. Dropping his cane, the Joker slowly removed two guns from the back of his trousers, raising them in the air as Octavia gasped, his intense stare never tearing away from her.

"Does pretty want to play?"

This was it. This was how she would die. Octavia had barely even lived her life yet, but it wasn't due to her young age of twenty-four. No, it was due to her inability to connect with the world. She mooched off her sister's income and stayed rent-free at her apartment deep in the city. She had no job, nor dreams. Others around her had their careers and purposes. What did Octavia have?

Nothing. And now she would have nothing for all eternity.

Slowly, the barrels of the two guns pressed against her temples, trailing down her tear-stained face as manic silver eyes held her watery gaze. The cold gun barrels ran down the streams of her tears, down her throat and rested against her collarbone. The Joker ground his teeth together, a sinister grin on face as he craned his neck and hissed.

"Does pretty want to play?" The Joker repeated, his impatient tone sending shivers down her spine.

Unable to find her voice, Octavia whimpered before shaking her head, her terrified gaze locked into his fierce silver eyes.

A sinister and mad laugh escaped his painted red lips, the eerie cackle sending jolts of agonising terror through her veins as she shuddered. The gun barrels pressed against her collarbone, his glowing silver eyes raking down her face and neck, resting on the replica pearls above the guns.

The guns nudged against and lifted her pearls as he inspected them, his tongue darting out and dampening his red lips.

"They're fake," Octavia whispered, her voice cracking as his grin widened.

Again, his head threw back and he laughed manically, Octavia watching him with palpable terror, praying to Batman that she would be rescued before her insides decorated the wall. There was no doubt in her mind that Harry and Ron would have fled the ballroom in favour for acquiring their alter-egos and saving the day. She just hoped that they weren't too late to save her.

The Joker rotated his head, as though he was cracking his neck, but Octavia quickly learned that it was a habit of his. Her breath hitched as he chattered his teeth together deliberately, the guns moving and pushing against the underside of her chin.

"I want to play," the Joker sang in the most dangerously teasing tone she had ever heard. A voice that belonged in the scariest horror movie of all time; not real life.

"Pick one." The Joker grinned, practically giddy with excitement.

Octavia's eyes widened and watered, her face scrunching up at the realisation. Pick a gun. She shook her head violently, a whine escaping her pink lips as she shut her eyes, knowing that both guns would end her life, no matter which one she picked.

"Which one is a toy?" The Joker laughed, spinning around full-circle and stopping a foot away from her.

He grinned widely, aiming the guns at her petrified face as she wept. Her eyes darted between the two guns, attempting to identify the fake gun from the two.

"Play by the rules, pretty." The Joker clucked, inhaling the scent of her fear deeply. "Tick-tock, tick-tock."

Raising her trembling hand, Octavia opened her eyes slowly, meeting his manic stare as she sobbed, her fingertips hesitantly touching the left gun. There was no perceptible difference between the two weapons, so she just hoped that luck was on her side.

He laughed madly as he pulled the trigger, a terrible high-pitched scream ripping through the terrified girl at the sound of the loud _bang!_

Octavia began to hyperventilate as the gun remained aimed at her face, a stick protruding from the barrel. A white piece of cloth dangled from the stick, written on with one word in bold red letters, bordered with green; BANG!

Her hands shot to her chest, attempting to soothe the rapidly beating heart inside of her as she cried tears of trauma and relief, having selected the toy gun.

"Both it is!" The Joker declared, tossing the toy gun to the floor and aiming the other at her head.

"No, no, no, no!" Octavia blubbered, her hands raised as though it would prevent the bullet from killing her. "I PICKED! I PLAYED BY THE RULES!"

Her legs gave out beneath her entirely, Octavia falling down the wall and dropping to her bottom. She pleaded up at him with terrified hazel eyes, the Joker laughing at her pathetic blubbering.

"Come now, pretty." The Joker purred, grinning down at her. "You can't spell slaughter without laughter, can you?"

"AGH!" Octavia screamed as the gun went off with a deafening _bang!_ right at her wet and blotchy face.

Her breaths were rapid and hoarse, hitching frequently as no pain or death came for her. Slowly, her eyes opened and gazed up at the gun, realising that it was a toy as well.

The Joker was laughing manically at her sobs of relief and terror, the madman throwing away the gun before picking up his cane.

"Ever danced with the devil in the pale moonlight?" He asked teasingly, grabbing her arm and hauling the shaky girl to her feet as she whined.

Octavia cried loudly, the sobs of a child escaping her, as he dragged her over to the chaos of the dancefloor, yanking her through the screaming party-goers as they were attacked by henchmen.

A whimper escaped her lips as he pulled her chest against his, his arm snaking around her waist and swaying her to the sounds of terrified screams. Octavia's body shook and trembled as she moved with him, the fear preventing her from denying the devil a dance. The longer he kept her alive, the more time she had to be rescued by Batman and Robin.

The madness of the man was evident in the way he danced with the sobbing girl, his head lolling back as though he was perfectly at peace. He hummed perfectly out of tune with the screams that tore through the ballroom, his grin always in place. His dancing was exaggerated and pantomime as he twirled her around, spinning with her before bowing and curtseying frequently. All Octavia could do was dance with him, following his lead in a desperate act of self-preservation.

He spun around her shaky body, pressing his chest against her back as he gripped the cane with both hands and pulled it against her throat. Octavia's face scrunched up in agonising fear, stumbling back as he – and the cane – guided her backwards and in circles.

"What do you want?" Octavia whispered, her voice thick with the tears she shed.

The Joker laughed, the cruel and crazy sound sending shivers through her bones.

His painted lips brushed against the shell of her ear as he moved them to the beat of the shrieks around them, his tongue darting out and tasting her skin.

"All I've ever wanted is to have a good time," he sang dreadfully, in time with harmony of the horror. "To annoy the Bat, whenever possible. To murder the Batman and defile his carcass."

Octavia groaned as he stepped away from her, twirling her around before catching her in his arms. His devious grin flashed down at her, his sinister eyes alight with wicked intent.

"And a pony." He added before laughing hysterically.

Octavia flinched as he suddenly lurched his face to hers, their lips touching as he licked his teeth leisurely. Her wide horrified eyes gazed up at him, watching as he snapped his teeth together, imitating a feral dog bite as she winced.

He grinned widely as he growled before releasing his hold on her and bowing deeply.

Swiftly, he straightened himself and pressed the tip of his cane underneath her chin, the grin wiped from his face, his expression now foreboding and ominous. The cane slowly pulled her toward him, Octavia's steps reluctant and uneven as they closed the distance between them.

"We will meet again, pretty." The Joker whispered threateningly, his teeth bared, but not in a grin. "When you awake."

The humour was gone from his expression, the madman twitching as he hissed like snake. His tongue flicked out and tasted her tears mockingly before he stepped away and applauded.

It was the last thing she remembered before his cane connected with the side of her head, knocking her out cold and sending her reeling to the floor. But she remembered the echoes of his manic laugh as darkness consumed her.


	2. Chapter 2

Bloodshot hazel eyes gazed into red and puffy brown eyes, the Granger sisters seeking comfort in each another's stare alone. They couldn't speak to one another, nor approach and hug. So they offered each other the only form of comfort they could; comforting gazes filled with poorly concealed terror.

The Grangers had awoken in the grim cell hours ago, both secured to the opposite walls, facing one another. Their hands were shackled with long chains, the bolts buried deep within the cracks of the mossy walls. Strips of fabric were tied firmly around their mouths, preventing either of them from uttering anything but muffled sounds.

A dull ache throbbed at Octavia's temple, her hair a little rigid and matted from the dried blood. The Joker had whacked her with his cane in the ballroom, and in the terrified thoughts she experienced, Octavia fleetingly connected her injury to the assault. She was certain that there would be many more assaults to befall her.

Although, she hadn't seen another soul thus far. Only her sister had been in her company since she had awoken. No signs of the Joker or his cronies. Just Octavia and Hermione, locked in a cell of wherever the fuck they were.

After what felt like an eternity of silence, only penetrated by the sounds of muffles sobs, heavy footsteps were heard approaching the solid metal door of the cell. Octavia turned her gaze to the door, musing that it resembled one that would lead to a prisoner cell in an insane asylum. Except, in her current situation, she was on the wrong side of the door.

The sound of a key creaked and groaned through the cell, reverberating off the damp walls as it swung open. A shadowy figure stood in the threshold, his arms spread as though he was awaiting an applause. No sounds greeted him, both Grangers narrowing their eyes in an attempt to ascertain the identity of their mysterious visitor.

Into the light of the torches stepped the Riddler, dressed in a green suit from head to toe. The tasteful – as tasteful as a green suit could be – attire was the shade of emerald, much like the hair of the Joker who was nowhere in sight. Octavia felt a flicker of relief that the visitor was not the clown-madman, but the Riddler was not much better, if the stories were anything to go by.

The lunatic's tanned face was partly concealed by a green mask that tied at the back of his thick black hair, his dark eyes glinting like the abyss of nothingness. Black holes, Octavia fleetingly thought. Promises of utter destruction.

"Doctor Granger," the madman sang, twirling further into the room before bowing deeply in front of the chained-up Hermione.

His tone sent visible shivers down the girls' spines, both not speaking a word as they watched the Riddler straighten himself and toss his green cane from one hand to the other. His back to Octavia, the Riddler hummed as he pushed his cane forward, the tip pressed against Hermione's cheek. He hummed a lullaby sweetly as he used the cane to slip Hermione's cloth gag from her mouth and down to her neck.

"Doctor Granger," the Riddler said again, this time in a formal greeting tone. "How I've missed our little sessions. I hope you do not mind, but I have taken the liberty of inviting you into my humble abode. We are so fortunate to be presented with the opportunity to continue in the therapies you so kindly extended to me, wouldn't you agree?"

Hermione stared at the madman with wide horrified eyes, recalling the wretched 'therapies' he had endured at Azkaban. Those torturous treatments the Riddler – nee Blaise Zabini – was subject to were all done against Hermione's moral opinions, but the Board members hardly agreed. They treated their prisoners like mice and rabbits in an animal testing lab, regardless of her protests. Electro-shock therapy had been a weekly activity for the worst of the patients, Blaise Zabini being one of them. In Hermione's opinion, it had only worsened his insanity.

Her fear and unease were only increased by the recollection of the patient's fixation on her. He had been all too pleased to attend their sessions, singing her praises by means of constant riddles that centred around her hair and eyes.

Needless to say, this was hardly the best position for Hermione to be in.

"Blaise," Hermione whispered, her attempted professional tone cracking as fear washed over her. "Blaise, listen to me."

Blaise smiled down at her, nodding as he twirled his cane and waited patiently for her to speak.

"I need you to release me," Hermione stated in a stern tone as he continued to nod. "If you release us both and turn yourself in, I'll speak on your behalf to the Board. We can continue our therapy sessions, Blaise. We were making progress; don't you think? We can continue that, Blaise. It's so simple; just release us, and I will help you. Isn't that what you want?"

"Questions, questions," Blaise sang, gripping the cane in both hands and stretching his body. "So many questions."

"You like questions, don't you?" Hermione asked, her brown eyes shining with fear and hope.

"Yes, Dr Granger," Blaise smirked, swaying from one side to the other. "I do so love questions."

"I can ask you questions, and you can ask me questions," Hermione continued, feeling that she was making a smidgen of progress with the lunatic. "We can return to Azkaban and ask each other questions for as long as you please."

Blaise nodded and hummed in the affirmative, but made no move to free her from her restraints. Octavia suspected that he was merely humouring the Doctor, something that Hermione quickly caught onto also.

"Here's my counter offer," Blaise grinned wickedly. "I will free you _if_ you, Dr Granger, and that one-" the Riddler jerked his head toward a wide-eyed Octavia "-answer _my_ riddles correctly."

Hermione thinned her lips, glancing at her terrified sister with apprehension. To say that Octavia was a little thick would be an understatement, so they knew instantly that their odds were not the best.

"And if we answer incorrectly?" Hermione asked, bringing her gaze back to the grinning madman.

"Ah," Blaise chuckled, twirling his cane as he swayed on the spot. "Now _that_ is the million-dollar question, Dr Granger."

Octavia swallowed audibly, not wishing to discover the answer. She was sure that it wouldn't be in her favour, nor Hermione's.

"Riddle me this," Blaise grinned, stepping toward Hermione and dropping to his knees in front of her. "I have billions of eyes, yet I live in darkness. I have millions of ears, yet only four lobes. I have no muscle, yet I rule two hemispheres. What am I?"

Octavia scrunched her face up in confusion, utterly baffled by the riddle presented to her sister. But Hermione was as clever as they came, and O was certain that she would answer it without hesitation. She was correct.

"The human brain," Hermione answered instantly, the Riddler purring in approval as he nudged his nose against hers.

"Very good, Dr Granger!" Blaise declared proudly, jumping to his feet and turning to face the stiff blonde across the cell.

He swiftly danced toward her, looking happy as ever. Octavia's brows shot up as he jumped in the air, his feet colliding with the stone ground right in front of her as he landed. He allowed himself a fake thanks of an imaginary applause before he knelt down in front of her and removed the clothe around her mouth.

"Now let's see how 'Pretty' does, shall we?"

"My name is Octavia," O frowned, her bottom lip protruding slightly.

"Not for much longer, I bet," the Riddler mused aloud, tapping his cane against her furrowed brow. "I have orders: I cannot touch you, little 'Pretty'. It's all fine, though, isn't it? I have my Doctor to play with."

Octavia scowled and uselessly yanked against her restraints as he tilted his head and grinned.

"What is the beginning of eternity, the end of time and space, the beginning of every end and the end of every race?" The Riddler sang, bouncing his head in time with his song.

Octavia bit her bottom lip as she ransacked her brain for any hints to the answer, her eyes darting behind the olive-skinned man to her sister. Hermione mouthed something, but Octavia couldn't quite make it out. It didn't matter anyway, for the lunatic noticed their attempts at cheating.

"Such a shame," the Riddler grinned, his glee contrasting greatly with his words.

He pushed himself from the blonde girl and waltzed over to Hermione as her expression morphed into one of fear.

"Blaise!" Hermione pleaded as he chuckled. "Blaise, you don't have to do this. I know the answer- it's 'E', isn't it? So you can … We can just pretend this never happened, and you can get us out of here, can't you?"

Blaise laughed as he stopped right in front of her, using his cane to brush through her messy brown curls.

"Where's the fun in that, Doctor?" Blaise asked, his dark eyes glimmering with sadistic joy. "I want to continue our sessions, Dr Granger. Only this time, our roles will be reversed. Doesn't that sound like great fun?"

Before Hermione could respond, his cane whacked against her head, knocking her out entirely as Octavia screamed.

Octavia shouted, begged and cried as he unchained Hermione from the wall, hauling her limp body over his muscular shoulder. He sang and danced out of the cell, closing and locking the door behind him, leaving Octavia all alone in the darkness, only her misery for company.

* * *

Hermione cried violently as she gazed up at the Riddler, his manic grin sending shivers of agonising fear down her bones, her nerve-endings tingling with anxiety. He sang and danced around the table she was strapped to, setting up machineries and apparatuses around her. The very same that resided in the 'treatment' room of Azkaban.

Fresh waves of fear and terror washed over her as he approached, tilting his head as he looked down at her with palpable pity.

"Don't cry, Dr Granger," Blaise hushed, pressing his long finger against her parted lips.

A thick black rubber rod was stuck in between her teeth, preventing her from speaking, screaming and biting her tongue off. It had happened before at Azkaban in the first sessions of electro-shock therapy. Patients bit their tongues off in the state of pain, so they employed the rubber rods to prevent it from occurring again.

"It will only hurt for a moment," Blaise promised, caressing her parted lips gently. "I'm going to fix you, Dr Granger. I'm giving you a gift, don't you see that? The gift of eternal freedom."

Hermione tried to shake her head, but the tight restraints prevented it. He smiled down at her, patting her on the head before he turned around. Hermione didn't need to see what he was doing to know. She heard the jolts of electricity, the charging sounds of the electrode pads taunting her as it echoed through the clinical room.

A gravelly sob escaped her lips, the rubber rod muffling the desperate noise. But he heard it.

The Riddler turned around to face her, the electrode handles in his grasp as he pressed them together and laughed as they sizzled and zapped loudly.

"I'm going to give you what you want, Doctor." Blaise nodded, a smile on his pink lips. "I'm letting you see and feel what we do. The ones that you are fascinated by. You want to know how the insane operate, well I'm giving you the answers you seek. Isn't that nice?"

He didn't ask the question to be answered. That was evident the moment he pressed the handles against her temples and set to frying her brain.

* * *

Days. Was it days? It felt like days. It felt like an eternity.

Every so often the Riddler would come into the cell, ask them each a riddle and take Hermione away when Octavia answered incorrectly. A pattern and a routine. Established and never changing.

No one came for her. Octavia remained chained to the wall, only spoken to by her sister, and once during each visit from the Riddler. He asked her one riddle before laughing at her failure and ignoring her presence again.

It was always the same. Never changing. Never.

Until that day. But, of course, neither Granger knew that.

Octavia had no more tears left to cry, and felt that she was already joining the insane. Her mind was vacant and hazy as she observed her unconscious sister on the other wall, hazel eyes scanning over the blood that matted Hermione's curls.

Her sister scared her. Octavia didn't want Hermione to wake. She wanted Hermione to sleep.

For when she slept, she was not frightening Octavia. It was an awful way to feel about your traumatised sister. Hermione had not fully cracked under the endless stings of torture, but she was beginning to. And that scared Octavia to her fucking core. If Hermione was breaking, what chance did Octavia have? None.

Zero.

Zilch.

The door to the cell clanged as it opened with a shudder-worthy creak, the dim torch light not providing enough illumination to reveal the identity of the visitor. Octavia blinked her heavy eyelids slowly, attempting to concentrate her vision on the shadowy figure, assessing that it was a man from the shape of the silhouette. Or a very buff woman with short hair. The – presumable – man shut the metal door of the cell, locking it and slipping the key into his trouser pocket.

Hermione's eyelids began to open slowly, awaking from her trauma-induced slumber due to the loud sounds of the cell door.

The shadowy figure stepped further into the cell, the light of the torches dancing around him, but never quite touching him. It mattered naught, however. For Octavia recognised the man's identity the moment his sadistic grin flashed brightly in the darkness.

Her blood ran cold as his sinister silver eyes pierced through the shadows, directed right at her wide hazel orbs. Instantly, her heartbeat picked up, all signs of weariness leaving her, replaced by nothing less than terror.

"Did you miss me, pretty?" The Joker asked with a wicked grin.

No. She hadn't. But she didn't say that, of course. She remained silent as she struggled to get to her feet, weariness assaulting her bones and muscles. Octavia feigned the bravery she did not possess, leaning back against the grimy wall, shackled with the chains as she raised her chin definitely.

The Joker laughed manically at the poor display of courage, his evil eyes widening, resembling a savage wolf. Or, more accurately, a crazed and rabid hyena. His green hair fell over his forehead, brushing against his brows as he walked toward her leisurely. His painted face cracked and peeled, the clown-makeup wearing away over the course of the day. She idly wondered if he painted his face himself each morning, or if another did it for him. It would be a strange sight to behold, she realised. A madman's morning ritual.

"I got you a present," the Joker grinned, twirling his way toward her, stopping when his body was only a few inches from hers.

Octavia remained quiet, feigning indifference, when really, she just couldn't find her voice. The fear was too great to speak.

Hermione rolled her head around a few times, her eyes struggling to open fully and focus on the visitor that had his back to her. Octavia's concerned and afraid eyes glanced over the Joker's shoulder to her sister, watching as she craned her neck slowly, looking rather insane. She supressed a shudder, seeing the effects of the tortures her sister had experienced, but hoped that it wouldn't change her entirely.

The Joker – nee Draco Malfoy – observed Octavia coolly for a moment, tilting his head as his grin faded; he certainly disliked when people didn't pay attention to him. Especially her.

Octavia whimpered as he backhanded her harshly, stumbling on her feet as she tried to balance herself. A sob escaped her swollen lips as she straightened herself, fixing her watery eyes on the decayed paint on the man's chin, remaining silent.

"Do you like presents?" The Joker asked, grinning widely again, as though he hadn't just burst her lip.

She did. But she was certain that she would loathe any present he ever got her; he was insane, so it stood to reason that his presents would match his level of madness and only cause her pain. She wanted nothing from him.

Shaking her head slowly, Octavia met his mercurial eyes, shivering as he raised his hand and hovered it over her injured lip. His eyes didn't inspect the damage he had caused, but his fingertips danced over the wound, drumming gently against it as she winced.

Suddenly, he removed his hand from her face and clapped his hands together in palpable excitement, his eyes glinting manically as his white teeth flashed in a sinister grin. He slipped the purple silk shirt he wore to the side, revealing his tattooed shoulder as Octavia moved her gaze to the marked skin. Her brows furrowed as she eyed the inked scribblings on his shoulder, not seeing what he was showing her. It wasn't until he tapped his index finger against one word that she shivered with fear and whimpered.

 _'_ _Pretty'._

It was certainly an ominous sign of things to come, and it caused Octavia great fear and despair to see his pet-name for her etched permanently onto his skin.

"Do you like it?" Joker asked, dragging his tongue over his teeth as he eagerly awaited her response.

"No." Octavia whispered, shaking her head as the grin wiped from his face.

His lips parted, his teeth pressed together firmly, his eyes alight with sparks of madness and fury. Not the response he was expecting, it appeared, but how could he have expected otherwise? Oh right. Because he was utterly insane.

In her conflicted state, poisoned by the trauma of her 'treatment', Hermione frowned as she assessed the interaction in front of her, a voice screaming in her mind to help her sister. But why? She didn't know. It was as though two people were inside of her, one begging to save Octavia, the other content with merely watching the scene unfold. It made no difference to her inner turmoil that Octavia began to weep silently, her eyes meeting Hermione's curious gaze.

Hermione's inner voice of reason grew louder, ringing in her ears as she was scolded by herself. It made her head hurt. Her brows furrowed deeper as she shook her head, attempting to toss the bothersome voice of reason from her mind as she groaned.

"Look at me," the Joker sang, flicking his finger against Octavia's brow.

Octavia swiftly tore her gaze from her sister's strange behaviour, meeting the Joker's maniacal eyes instead.

The Joker pulled a knife out of his trouser pocket, twirling it between his fingers as he gazed vacantly at a terrified Octavia. He blinked a few times, seemingly lost in a daydream, no grin on his face, his expression one of madness. She didn't like where this was going at all.

"Draco," a hoarse voice came from Hermione, so quiet, it was barely heard. "Draco, put the knife down."

Octavia's wide eyes darted to her sister, seeing Hermione in the girl, and not the strange and frightening woman she was at times. Relief swelled in her heart at the realisation that her sister still existed within the vacant and twitchy woman, revelling in the discovery that there was still hope. Hope for Hermione, as well as herself.

"Draco, listen to me." Hermione continued, O's gaze flicking back to the Joker. "I can help you, you know. You have to put the knife down, and we can fix all of this."

Draco's eyes flashed with terrifying insanity, the madness even more intense than the lunatic was himself. It was a frightening sight to behold, and Octavia felt the fear drip down her spine as she watched him twitch and hiss. It was pretty safe to assume that he didn't respond well to being referred to by his birth name.

He flipped the knife up in the air, catching it firmly by the handle and rolled his head in circles as he bared his teeth. Octavia instantly felt her fear transfer from her own self-preservation to that of her sister's. Octavia wasn't the one in danger anymore; Hermione was.

The man appeared to be possessed by something as he twitched and craned his neck, Octavia watching with wide eyes as he slowly turned to face Hermione. The knife gripped firmly in his hand caused Octavia a great deal of panic as rolled his shoulders, evidently about to enact unspeakable tortures upon her sister. Something that Octavia couldn't allow to occur. She wasn't sure that her sister would survive it again. Her brilliant and strong mind had already begun to shatter, changing and morphing into something terrifying. Octavia needed to stop it; the only way she knew how.

"Joker, Sir." Octavia spoke brokenly. "Mister Joker, please!"

The lunatic took no notice of her, a ferocious grin on his face as he stepped toward a wide-eyed Hermione slowly. Hermione had long since forgotten her bravery in the face of danger, flashing images of her tortures playing in her mind on repeat with each step he took. Each step brought him closer to her bruised and weak body and each step brought the memories back.

The Joker hadn't necessarily been the one to enact the unspeakable experiences onto Hermione, but he was one of the same with The Riddler. They both terrified Hermione to her core, and they were in cahoots and had been for who knows how long.

The painted face of Draco Malfoy turned dark as he neared the cowering psychiatrist on the floor, Octavia shouting in unsuccessful attempts to catch his attention. The savage glint in his eyes directed at Hermione as he licked the sharp blade of the knife, the corners of his lips spread into an awful grin that spoke of everything but humour. She had no doubt in her mind that she was about to pay for everything that ever happened to the Joker at Azkaban.

"JOKER!" Octavia screamed, flailing against her restraints as tears streamed down her dirty face.

The satin red gown she wore was dirtied and ripped from her futile efforts, the chains clanging and clanking with every struggle that fell on deaf ears. He was paying O no mind whatsoever, she even began to wonder if he had forgotten her presence in the room entirely. All of his attention was fixed on Hermione, his determined and torturously slow steps toward the psychiatrist sending jolts of fear through both Granger girls.

Octavia's harsh breathing echoed around the damp cell, her mind churning with possible ways to distract the madman from assaulting her sister. There was one way, but it caused her to shudder before she had even put it into action. But in that moment, with the Joker stopping in front of a recoiling Hermione and dropping to his knees, the knife in hand, Octavia realised; there was no choice. Not when it came down to it. It was her or her sister. Octavia would choose Hermione every day of the week.

Hermione was the only person that Octavia would put herself in danger for. So really, she was left with no option.

"Joker!" Octavia shouted, going ignored – or forgotten – once again. "Joker, please come here! Come to me!"

He flinched, but not of repulsion. He had noticed her, but continued to kneel in front of Hermione, dragging the point of the knife down her tearstains slowly. Hermione glanced frantically between the Joker and her sister, seeing that O had caught his attention and praying to Batman that he left both girls alone. A silly prayer, she knew, but she hoped all the same.

"Pudding," Octavia whined, pulling against the shackles as the Joker stilled instantly. "Come to your pretty!"

The tears of horror at the words escaping her lips stung at her eyes and trickled down her damp cheeks. But it was working. The Joker craned his neck to the side, his painted cheek hovering above his shoulder as he shut his eyes peacefully.

Hermione nodded frantically at Octavia, informing her of her progress. Of her success in taming the Joker, if only for a moment. They weren't sure where this would go exactly, but it lessened the danger for both of them at that moment, and that's all they could ask for.

"Puddin'," Octavia whined, stomping her foot like a child would do. "I want to play a game."

The Joker rose to his feet, his back to Octavia as he rolled his shoulders, turning his head to face her before his body followed. A manic grin decorated his painted face, glints in his silver eyes that scared O to her fucking core. But she pretended still, and pouted as their gaze connected.

"Why won't you play with me?" Octavia pouted, Hermione breathing in relief behind the Joker.

Her big hazel eyes betrayed her as he approached, shining with hatred and repulsion, but he didn't see that. He saw what he wanted to as he walked toward her slowly, fingering the knife in his hand menacingly.

Octavia shrieked, her body shaking violently, as he lunged at her, the tip of the knife stabbing right into the stone wall, missing her face by an inch. His knees bent upon his landing, the Joker grinning widely as he pushed his body against hers, slowly straightening himself and inhaling her scent deeply as he did. His tongue darted out against the tears that soaked her plump lips, his sinister silver eyes boring into her pleading hazel orbs.

"Is pretty lying to me?" Joker grinned before laughing madly, the tip of the knife buried deep into the cracks of the stone wall.

Octavia shook her head vehemently, lying without the words she couldn't speak as he stopped laughing abruptly, pushing his forehead against hers harshly.

"IS PRETTY LYING?" The Joker roared in her face as she squealed, his forehead surely bruising hers as she groaned and squirmed.

"No, no, I swear Mister Joker, I'm not lying." Octavia pleaded in a blubbering mess of words, the Joker baring his teeth in a mocking feral grin.

"Then why are you crying?" The Joker asked in a sing-song voice, pulling away from her as he twirled like a ballerina.

Suddenly, he slammed his hands against the wall at either side of her head as he roared in her face. Octavia screamed loudly as he roared like a lion, her face crumpling as she sobbed and cried.

His roar turned into manic laughter as she screamed hysterically, her body shaking and fear attacking every nerve in her body. Hermione watched the scene through hooded lids, unable to find the strength to intervene, barely warding off unconsciousness as her lips moved, speaking silent words of protest.

"Mister Joker, please," Octavia whimpered, her watery hazel eyes pleading with him pathetically. "Please, I'm not lying, I swear I'm not lying."

"Call me Puddin'," the Joker grinned widely, his tongue between his teeth. "Or Mister J, if you are so inclined to formalities."

Octavia's bottom lip wobbled as she gazed up at his now-calm expression, nodding meekly to accept his offer.

"So?" Joker grinned, swaying his hips, his hands still pressed against the damp wall. "What game does pretty wish to play?"

Now that his attention was solely on her and not her sister, Octavia found that she didn't need to carry out her plans of distraction anymore. She had initially planned on kissing the vile creature, but decided against it now that he had forgotten about Hermione.

Octavia glanced at her sister briefly, noting that unconsciousness had taken her for the countless time since they had first woken in the cell. Again, leaving Octavia alone; but this time, with a madman.

The Joker bit at the air in front of her face, impatiently awaiting her response as his upper lip curled. Octavia's eyes darted back to him, meeting his sinister gaze as she blinked stupidly, trying to come up with a game that wouldn't endanger her or her broken sister.

"Rock, paper, scissors?" Octavia suggested hesitantly.

He growled and bit the air again, his teeth clacking together and sending shudders of fear down O's spine as she recoiled into the wall. Needless to say, he wasn't exactly excited at the prospect of her proposed game.

"Liar, liar, pants on fire," the Joker teased, evidently referring to his prior accusations.

Octavia watched as he pulled out a lighter from his pocket, his manic grin on his face as he kept her stare. Oh fuck. Was he … Was he really going to set her on fire? Surely not!

A gasp escaped her lips as he flipped open the silver lighter and ignited the flame as he laughed madly, drinking in her fear with wide manic eyes.

He grinned as he brought the flame closer to her body, hovering it near the fabric of her dress at her abdomen as she shrieked.

"No, no, no! I want to play a game, please!" Octavia whined and sobbed. "Please, please, please, don't do this! I want to play!"

"You know," the Joker began as though entering into polite conversations. "I don't like liars. They remind me of cheaters, and those are the worst sort, don't you think?"

"Yes," Octavia nodded frantically, tears streaming down her face. "But I'm not a liar, I really do want to play, Mister J. I promise, I swear on my life, I want to play."

Octavia was panicking, that much was for sure. Her body trembled violently, her eyes wide with horror as he grinned at her with sinister intent. He really was going to kill her; she saw it in his eyes. Stupidly, she had thought that he wouldn't. That he would only hurt her, but not end her life. How silly she was.

How very silly.

The Joker bit the air again, his teeth almost catching her lips as she whimpered. Desperate to live, Octavia returned the action, biting the air in front of his face as his grin and eyes widened impossibly. The Joker cackled madly, his head lolling back as he tossed the lighter on the grimy floor where it extinguished upon contact. He appeared to like her reaction, relishing in it as his head lolled back and he laughed like the lunatic he was.

"What pretty wants, pretty gets," the Joker laughed, punching the side of her head and knocking her out instantly as she crumbled to the floor in a heap.

The Joker tilted his head and gazed down at her limp body, his expression tranquil and relaxed as his grin faded into a small smile.

Slowly, he dropped to his knee beside her, his long gloved fingers brushing through her dirty blonde ringlets, petting her like one would do with a cat. He hummed before he spoke to her, words that would determine her fate as he unshackled her from the wall.

"I only laugh on the outside, my smile is just skin deep; if you look inside, I'm really crying, won't you join me for a weep?"


	3. Chapter 3

Weeks. It had been weeks of horror and torture. It never ended, and he claimed that it was all for her own good. To give her insight into his twisted mind. Octavia didn't want the insight; she wanted to be free. To never see this madman again.

Or that's how she used to feel.

The constant shock-therapy treatments he had performed on her had done his intent. It had changed her. Had it opened her mind, or destroyed it? It was difficult to know the answer to that. For her mind was fractured and broken, but vibrant and alive. She felt everything, but nothing. Every emotion within her was intensified but blanketed by the disinterest.

Octavia stood facing the damp stone wall of the dungeon she was trapped in, her wide hazel eyes watching intently as an ant scurried down the cracks of the wall. Octavia tilted her head as her fingertips touched the mossy wall, trailing upwards toward the unsuspecting ant. A smile twisted at her lips as she suddenly smashed her index finger against the ant that sought sanctuary, killing it with the pressure of her touch.

She removed her finger from the wall, bringing it up to her face as her smile transformed into a pout. Her sparkling hazel eyes dimmed as she inspected the crushed gooey carcass of the dead ant, feeling regret and pity flickering inside of her. A frown creased at her brow as she whispered quiet apologies to the dead ant and wiped its remains on the stone wall.

With her movements, the shackles that restrained her to the wall clanked and clanged loudly. The noise awoke her slumbering sister, chained to the other side of the mossy dungeon, Hermione groaning as slumber left her. Octavia remained facing the wall, her head tilted to the side as used her dirtied fingernail to pick at the corpse of the ant.

* * *

 _Octavia sobbed horridly, saliva and tears collecting at her lips and swelling into bubbles before they popped in the air. Her cheeks were soaked with the evidence of her fear, her hands gripping impossibly tight onto his tattooed wrist. The Joker stood on the balcony of the house, laughing manically as he dangled her over the edge, hovering Octavia several stories above the solid stone ground. She blubbered and sobbed, shrieked and whined as she held onto his wrist firmly, her face scrunched up in agonising terror as she pleaded with him._

 _"Please!" Octavia shrieked, her begging drowned out by his mad laughter. "Please, no! No, no! I don't want to die!"_

 _The Joker laughed harder at her pleas, finding her panicked and terrorised expression to be rather hilarious as her legs flailed in mid-air._

 _Of course, he wasn't going to kill her. He wasn't going to drop her to her death. He was going to_ _ **save**_ _her._

 _She just didn't know it yet._

* * *

Hermione felt her heart constrict marginally as she watched her sister, Octavia subconsciously swaying her hips as she hummed an upbeat melody. It was a frightening and eerie scene to witness, or so it should have been. Hermione only felt a smidgen of unease at watching her sister's peculiar behaviour, but found that she was bobbing her head in time with the creepy tune.

The Joker and the Riddler had captured them weeks ago – perhaps months ago; it was difficult to know – and locked them in the dungeons. But the dungeons of where? Hermione didn't know. It didn't matter though. It mattered naught where they were. As long as they were all together.

Her once bright and brilliant mind had dimmed under the relentless tortures and shock-therapies. Now, Hermione was barely able to hold onto the echoes of her once logical mind. But she had no traces of her former self. Only the cleverness lingered.

Laced with the madness.

* * *

 _Hermione shook violently, her body writhing and thrashing violently on the hard metal table. Blinding white lights assaulted her vision, preventing her from seeing anything other than the shadowy silhouettes of the Riddler. He spoke to her in soothing hushed tones, but she heard only the electricity coursing through the equipment and frying her once-brilliant brain._

 _Octavia lay on the other table, enduring the same tortures by the hands of the Joker, but Hermione barely took any notice. She didn't notice anything, for she wasn't there anymore. Herself had left her mind and body, sleeping deep within her subconscious._

 _Never to awake again._

* * *

The cell door opened, the Riddler stepping into the small damp space as he smiled at Hermione. She returned the smile to the best of her abilities, but it was a small smile due to the aches and pains that assaulted her entire body.

The Riddler dropped to his knees in front of her, unshackling her from the wall as he met her gaze. The softest smile she had ever seen graced his unmasked face, the gesture alerting her to what he had promised her.

She was ready. To leave the cell and join him.

Hermione had passed her treatments, and would now face the despicable world by Blaise's side.

Them against the world.

* * *

 _"Do you love me, pretty?" The Joker asked, straddling her limp body on the metal table._

 _The gag prevented her from answering the question verbally as he stroked her curls softly, but she nodded. She used to nod in an attempt to prevent further tortures. She used to cry and nod her head vigorously when he asked that question after each treatment session. But now, she just nodded lazily, her hazel eyes dimmed as she gazed up at him vacantly._

 _Love. It was a funny thing, wasn't it? Did she love him?_

 _No._

 _But Octavia felt as though she craved him. His approval. It meant everything to her. Perhaps because his approval came with sweets and treats, his manners transforming into gentle touches and words. Perhaps because his approval would stop the tortures. She didn't know._

 _She only knew that she wanted to please him. At first, in an act of self-preservation. But now? Now, because she had been trained to want his approval._

 _It was the same thing every time. The balcony, the electrocution and the question. Every time the same. And every time he would caress her gently as she cowered and shivered, claiming that it was for her own good. That he was helping her and freeing her shackled mind from the restraints of sanity._

 _And now, she was beginning to believe him._

* * *

Hermione cracked first. It was to be expected when she had endured the worst of the two sisters, and for lengthier periods of time. But her behaviour no longer scared Octavia, for O quickly followed her sister to the depths of insanity. They understood now. They saw what they were supposed to see. The wretchedness of Gotham city, and the vermin that inhabited it. They had to free those of Gotham city, like they themselves had been freed. And they would have fun while they did so. Fun with their madmen.

The Joker and Riddler visited several times a day now, but no more torture came to the girls. Their 'treatments' were over, yet they remained trapped in a cell. The Grangers didn't mind. They understood. It was for their own good. The Joker and Riddler had to be certain before they could free them completely. Hermione's time had come first. It was to be expected, for she was free in her mind before Octavia was. Earlier that day, Hermione left with the Riddler, hand-in-hand. She had not returned.

Hermione was free.

* * *

Days. Weeks. Months. It could be either of the three. Octavia didn't know. Time flew by here, but it dragged by horrendously slow at the same time. She looked forward to her visits, for they were the only reprieve in her mundane existence. The Joker sparked that life inside of her, filling her with joy and fear; so much better than the vacant numbness she felt when he wasn't around.

Today he would visit. Today she would see the Joker and she could barely contain her excitement. For maybe today would be the day that she would be free? She hoped so. It was ultimately the Joker's decision. If he decided that she wasn't free in her mind, she would not be free from the cell.

Octavia would understand if he decided to keep her locked away. He only wanted what was best for her. If she wasn't free mentally, then she trusted his verdicts.

Laying on her back on the ground, Octavia had her legs raised against the stone wall, using her bare feet to smoosh the life out of the stray ants that dared enter her residence. They were trying to take her food, and she could not allow that. In saying that, she had only half-eaten her plate of sweets and candies, leaving the rest as bait for the small insects. Killing them was really the only entertainment she had in her long days, other than the visits from her Puddin' of course.

The day prior, Puddin' had brought her a present. A present that she currently wore, and never wanted to take off. It was a shiny faux leather bodysuit, red and black, with a plunging zip-up neckline. He had given her the costume so that they could play together.

Octavia liked to play with him sometimes. It depended on his mood, really. But today, she hoped he was in a good mood so that they could play again. Nice games. Not the mean ones he sometimes played with her. But the mean ones weren't as bad as they used to be. Now, when he dangled her over the balcony, she just smiled up at him and trusted that he wouldn't let her fall. She was right to trust him.

The Joker never let her fall.

The metal door to the cell creaked and slammed open with a bang, Octavia grinning and craning her neck to see her anticipated visitor. A giggle escaped her lips as he smoothed out his hair in an effort to look presentable for her.

"Honey, I'm home!" The Joker declared, spreading his arms wide in a dramatic entrance.

His manic grin widened impossibly as he eyed O on the floor, her legs stretched upwards against the wall and head turned to the side to meet his gaze. All dressed up in her red and white costume.

"Come to Puddin'," he grinned as he stepped within the reach of her restraints.

Octavia squealed in delight at his positive temperament, shimmying around to climb to her feet and running right into him. Her arms wrapped around his neck as she embraced him tightly, leaning up on her tip-toes, the Joker laughing madly as he wrapped one arm around her waist.

Her grin widened as he pulled away and set to removing her shackles, evidently taking her out of the cell again. She liked it out of the cell. When he wasn't hurting her, of course.

"Ready, doll-face?" The Joker sang, extending his gloved hand toward the excited girl.

Octavia nodded excitedly, taking his hand and allowing him to lead her out of the cell and through the warehouse. She had only been to a few areas of the warehouse, but enough to know that parts of it had been converted into living spaces, and other parts used for experiments. Sometimes, she was the subject of those experiments – electro-shock therapy. But she had once seen a laboratory in passing, and was eager to go inside. Puddin' had said no and slapped her that day, so she didn't ask again.

They both remained silent, only their grins on their faces, as they ran through the warehouse, the Joker guiding her to a part of the large building that she had never been to before. A rat scurried past them, Octavia barking at it furiously, the Joker laughing manically at her display of insanity.

After a few minutes of running, they reached a massive room that housed several pits bubbling with chemicals. The pits of chemicals were beneath them, as they both stood on the metal ramps above, the Joker guiding her to the green, pink and purple pit below.

The Joker pulled her flush against his chest as they stood at the edge of the ramp, no railing preventing a fall down to the pits.

"You have done so well, pretty." The Joker cooed, brushing his free hand through her mass of blonde curls. "So very well."

Octavia beamed proudly, melting against him as she gazed up at his shining silver eyes.

"I knew you were the one the moment I saw you pretending to be like them," he continued, Octavia's cheeks blushing brilliantly. "I used to be the same way. Powerless against those who wanted to keep me down. Until the greatest thing that could ever happen to me did. An impromptu incident of mythic proportions."

The Joker turned to stare vacantly at the pit of chemicals beneath them. "I fell in there."

Octavia's eyes widened, feeling the alien surges of pity for her Puddin', pressing her palms flat against his bare chest.

"When my eyes stopped stinging, I finally saw the world for the true hypocrisy it is. Which set me free, because once I didn't care about the rules anymore, I had all the power." He cupped her cheeks and gazed at her pensively. "I wanted to give you that power from the moment I saw you."

Her face the deepest shade of crimson, Octavia bit her bottom lip and practically swooned at his approval and affection for her.

"Do you love me?" The Joker frowned, tilting his head as he observed her love-struck eyes.

The same question he asked each day.

Today, however, she answered honestly.

"Yes, Puddin'." Octavia smiled before kissing his lips gently.

The Joker cupped her cheeks firmly, returning the sweet kiss with softness that he did not know he possessed. Their lips parted and his head lolled back, his eyes shut, as he grinned widely and cackled.

Swiftly, he spun her around, pulling her back against his tattooed chest and rested his chin atop her wild curls.

"Madness is like gravity," the Joker purred, running his hands up and down the faux leather sleeves of her costume. "All you need is a little _push_."

A shriek escaped the pretty as he shoved her off the railing and down into the bubbling pit of chemicals. She flailed and wailed loudly as she fell, her arm outstretched toward him as though he would catch her. He didn't.

The Joker watched with wide eyes and feral grin as she landed in the thick gooey substance within the pit, a manic glint in his eyes. The liquid swallowed her whole and the Joker dove off the railing instantly, joining her in the place of his creation. Her creation.

Their creation.


End file.
